Your Own Anchor
by didntsignupforthis
Summary: Takes place after Blitzkrieg (6.08). Malia stays with Scott instead of going home and they work some things out. (cross-posted on ao3)
1. Chapter 1

It was a quarter to midnight and Malia's hands couldn't stop twitching. Her uncontrollable shaking started immediately after the pack called it a night, promising to get their memories of Stiles back the next morning.

She was still sitting in Scott's dining room chair even as everyone else filed out of his house to get some sleep. She knew that if she got home she wouldn't be getting any sleep since she couldn't stop turning her bedroom into a coyote den. And she didn't want Scott to be isolated in his house without Melissa. If anyone knew a thing about losing mothers, it was her. She just couldn't leave Scott by himself to worry himself sick and ultimately take all the blame for everyone getting taken. If they are going to have any chance against the Ghost Riders, she needs to have everything under control and so does Scott and Lydia.

Malia unleashed her claws, then retracted them a few seconds later. She kept her focus on her shaking hand, releasing and retracting, over and over until she felt she had complete control over her body. But she didn't, not completely. Her fangs dropped down into her mouth unexpectedly, blood began dripping from the cuts they made on her bottom lip.

"Fuck!" She yelled, running to the sink and turning on the faucet. She grabbed a napkin, wet it, and dabbed it against her lip wound. She couldn't help but sigh miserably. How could she take on more Ghost Riders if she can't even control her fangs?

She cursed again. "Fucking useless without an anchor."

"You're not useless."

Malia turned, surprised she didn't hear Scott coming behind her. He was slouched with messy bed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. She figured given the long day they had he'd be out cold for the rest of the night. She balled the napkin up and tossed it in the trash bin. The sadness inside of him was overwhelming, Malia could sense it.

"We got our asses kicked back there," she whispered. Her voice was raw with anger, but Scott could tell that she was holding back. Or trying to. "I couldn't protect you." She hoped her eyes were reflecting the point she was trying to get across. Scott reached and grabbed her wrist, holding it up between them. Her claws were out again.

"Malia, I'm fine. We're okay."

"We will be, once we get Stiles and your mom back," Malia said, pulling her wrist back from Scott's grip. He looked at her with a pleading expression.

"Malia,"

"We are not fine, Scott. I'm not okay and none of this is okay!"

He opened his mouth to speak again but paused as a look of realization spread across his face. He shook his head then groaned. "This is my fault," he began, gesturing to Malia's claws, "I didn't teach you how to be your own anchor. I didn't go over that basic training with you. I'm the reason you're losing control." He admitted, looking a little broken. Malia growled.

"No, you're not. You have nothing to do with this, Scott."

"Yes, I do! I'm the alpha and you're pack, it's literally in my job description to teach you all I know and I didn't! But it's not too late." He perked up. Before she could ask what he meant by that, her hand was grabbed again and she was being pulled out of the kitchen and into the living room.

"I don't get the point of this," she takes a seat on the couch beside him, "I already have an anchor and we're getting him back."

"Okay, but you can't always rely on Stiles. Look what happened when you did. We need to find out what makes you human and keeps you under control." He explained. Malia didn't have many things that could keep her human and she knew that, but she decided to humor him.

"You and Lydia."

"Besides us. Besides the pack. An anchor isn't a real person, it's...intangible. It's a thought. A feeling." He tried to explain again. She pulled both her legs up on the couch, crisscrossing them as she turned to face him fully. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"Okay. Well, what's your anchor?" She asked.

"Pain makes me human again. And knowing that I can use my alpha powers for good...saving people, doing the right thing. That's what I hold on to." He replied slowly, an indicator that he was thinking about something. Malia placed her hand on his shoulder to get him out of his own head. His eyes cleared from their daze as he stared back at her.

"We're gonna get her back, Scott. No matter what. We're getting everyone back." Malia promised. He nodded along with her, trying his hardest not to think about it too much.

"She's the one who told me to be my own anchor. She -" he paused and turned away as a lump formed in his throat. Malia leaned over and squished him into a much-needed hug. He buried his face in her neck, hiding the oncoming tears into her skin. She never was good at comforting people, but this felt normal. She didn't realize how badly she was craving affection from someone she cared about until his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her into him completely. She relaxed in his grip, resting her head on his shoulder, and let him take as much time as he needed to let his feelings out. He couldn't bottle them up anymore, she could tell he needed this probably more than anyone.

"I know I don't always show it but," she found her voice to speak again once Scott calmed down, "I care about the pack so much. You're like my family and I...I need to protect you guys and make sure you're alright. And when you are...I feel human." She muttered into his shirt. Scott pulls himself away to get a good look at her.

"Keeping people safe...that anchors you." He said.

"Not people. You. My pack." She elaborated with a soft smile. Scott returned it.

"It's a start."

Malia unwrapped herself from him and sat back, ignoring the cold feeling washing over her. Scott stood up and stretched his body. Malia figured she should finally go home since Scott seemed a little bit back to normal. But the thought of leaving now made her anxious.

"Can I sleep here?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah, of course. I'll just be in my room if you need me." He grazed her shoulder as he passed by the couch towards the staircase. She nodded, whispering an okay.

She wasn't going to act as if feelings were a new thing because they weren't. She just had a hard time confronting those feelings most of the time and it all stemmed back to her messed up childhood. She missed out. She missed the birthday parties, the first dates, the awkward transition from child to adult, and every other necessity in a child's life. She never did get that Polly Pocket she begged her adopted mother for when she was eight. She never learned how to bake a cake or ride a bike without the training wheels. Her youth was wasted as a savage coyote traveling through the woods, holding onto the last of her family, and harboring strong feelings of regret. She was an angry animal, hellbent on punishing herself. Those years all jumbled together and all she remembers is the loneliness of being who she was and envying the hell out of the stupid people who she caught making out in the preserve. And she remembered crying herself to sleep an endless amount of nights. She couldn't feel the human touch. Would never get that warming embrace. She was a savage beast and that's all anyone had ever seen her as for about eight years...until her limbs were changing from the intense roar of an alpha pack leader. And then she was someone different.

She knew she was safe the moment she looked up into the glowing red eyes of Scott McCall. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her. And despite his sudden outburst of not teaching her enough, he actually helped her more than anyone. Scott had shown her how to unleash her claws, control her powers, and protect the pack. He'd taught her the importance of vulnerability and strength as one. She doesn't think she's ever respected someone as much as she does Scott. And she hates to let him down. She hates to see his eyes turn soft as he stares down at his feet like he has the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. She can't even help herself when he's in danger, all those techniques he taught her fades away and she's so animalistic and primal that it scares her sometimes. It scares her that someone could kill Scott. Well, technically someone did, and she will never stop trying to kill him. But the pack doesn't kill people, no matter what. She learned that, too.

She could always trust Scott. With anything. She guessed that's why she was walking into his bedroom later that night after tossing and turning on his stiff couch. His heartbeat was steady even though she knew that he was still awake. Without thinking twice, she slipped off her shoes and lightly climbed into his bed. He turned his body to face her.

"I can't sleep down there." She whispered, snuggling into one of his pillows and breathing in his scent.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she lifted her body so that she could slip under the comforter with him, "Don't hog up all the covers." She stayed on her side of the bed, careful not to get too close to him. He scoffed but eased most of the covers on her side anyway. They laid there for a few minutes without speaking. Her breathing regulated but she still wasn't going to sleep.

"I was thinking," Scott broke the silence. Malia turned her head towards him. "Why would Stiles be your anchor? I mean, do you think that you two...were...a thing?" He asked.

"Like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing?"

"Yeah,"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

"But Lydia's convinced that -"

"Let's not get into that right now, Scott. I really don't wanna find out about the girl-fight I probably had with one of my best friends over a guy I don't completely know." She huffed. Scott raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I'm just saying. We're gonna have to find out anyway. I just want you to be ready because we have to talk about it sooner or later."

"I know," she pouted. He smiled, then made a fanning gesture with his hand for her to come closer. Malia pouted even harder but scooted in closer to him. He flipped her body by her shoulders to face the other direction and wrapped one of his arms loosely around her torso, the other he used to prop his own head up. Malia hid her smile into the pillow.

"Why are you -"

"You need to get some rest, Lia," he snuggled his head into the back of her neck, "Can't have you falling asleep on us tomorrow."

"You're oddly confident in your cuddling skills. What if I still don't go to sleep? What if I stay awake even harder?"

"Trust me, you're going to sleep."

She felt at odds with herself as she relaxed into Scott's cuddles. The urge to cuddle him instead was strong, but the instinct to relax into his comforting embrace and let him control the cuddling situation was slightly stronger. She liked being the cuddle-ee with Scott, she wasn't sure if it were because she trusted him so much or because he was her alpha. His every breath she could feel on her neck, which seemed oddly intimate to her, but she liked it regardless.

"Night, Scott." She sighed.

"Nih-lia," he replied sleepily, muffled by the skin on her neck he was resting on. She smiled and drifted off into a comfortable sleep for the first time in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

She remembered who Stiles was, unfortunately.

He was the first person she grew a strong connection with after she was transformed back into a human, her anchor. He promised to never leave her behind, ever, and he solidified that statement with a brush of soft lips against her forehead. Stiles took her hand in his when no one else would and told her that everything was going to be okay. He cuddled with her every night, so much that Malia almost couldn't get proper sleep without it. They never said they loved each other, but she thought about it a lot and sometimes when she looked into his eyes, she thought he might love her too. No matter how absolutely infuriating he could be, ranting all day about nerd movies and being an asshole like it was his job, Malia couldn't help but love him.

Being with Stiles was comforting. He had faith in her...hope. She doesn't think she would've made it to senior year without him (or Lydia's notes). She hasn't had sex with anyone else, but it was always great with Stiles. He was tentative with her, as if she, a werecoyote, would break into a million pieces. He used to keep his lips pressed against her neck and intertwine their fingers as he entered her, which was such an amazing feeling, being completely enveloped with another human, touching in every way possible. It's what she lacked for so many years and then it just hit her all at once with Stiles.

She didn't tell Lydia that when they were trying to get him back.

She paced for hours on end the night it all happened, back in her coyote den bedroom with her father fast asleep a few doors away. Her anchor was back, but he wasn't hers anymore. He didn't look at her for longer than a couple of seconds upon his return and somehow it would've felt better if he just hadn't looked at her at all. He didn't pull her into a hug or give any clue as to how grateful he was that she risked her life to save him. No, he ran to Lydia instead. And wasn't that just a new development? It sucked, for lack of better words.

She was never that close to Lydia anyway for her to feel any type of regret for going after her ex, so Malia didn't put that against her. Stiles, however, she wanted to kill. He broke up with her because she supported and loved him no matter what he did. She told him that she would never leave him no matter what horrible crimes he committed and she followed through with those words. She was supposed to be his, no matter what. She remembered sitting in that car after he left her, wondering what she did wrong and what she could say to make him come back, but the words never came out of her mouth. She was speechless and he didn't care. And now he's in love with Lydia Martin, has been in love with her even while they were in an exclusive relationship.

So, _unfortunately_ , she remembers Stiles Stilinski and his kisses that meant nothing and his words that meant even less.

Late night television, popcorn, and liters of soda is how she spent her nights alone as they were finishing the senior year - well, her packmates were finishing the year - she still had to make up one stupid calculus course in summer school. Life was out to get her, that much she was sure of. She missed Kira dearly, she missed having a best friend to spill all of her inner secrets to, someone to be there by her side after one single text and love her unconditionally. Kira was a warm glow of sunshine on Malia's coldest days and she was ripped away from her, from the real world and everything that her best friend loved - like Scott. Malia had more grief within her, and with nowhere to place it, she remained reclusive. She heavily ignored the existence of Stiles, pleased to notice that she wasn't losing control of herself any longer, and shortened her interaction with Lydia to modest greetings in the school hallways and waving goodbye from across the parking lot.

From a respectable distance, Scott watched her bury her emotions deep, deep down, almost as low as her affection for Peter Hale, low into an abyss that no one could ever dig up again. She supposed something between her and Scott also changed since they all collectively remembered Stiles. Nowadays, he couldn't seem to stop asking if she were okay, or if she needed to talk, calling her regularly and making himself available to her on a whim. Of course, she denied his tempting advances for a growing kinship with her. Too caught up in her own misery, she refused to drag Scott into her problems. She thinks that just made him try harder.

She heard him before she saw him, his footsteps on her front porch that were so careful, and his low voice asking her father permission to see her. She kept her head down and fiddled with her fingers as his footsteps became closer and closer. For one second, she had a childish thought of hiding herself under her bed so they wouldn't have to talk about anything, but then she realized they're both creatures capable of hearing heartbeats and slumped against her headboard instead.

Her door creaked open seconds later.

She turned her head to see him. He stood beside her door in his usual attire, his hoodie sweatshirt, and blue jeans, looking every bit like he was on a mission. She took a strange comfort in his scent wafting in the air, his alpha presence that he wore strongly when it was needed. He gave her small, assuring smile before closing the door behind him and stepping further inside.

"Malia," He started. She knew what that tone meant. "You haven't talked to them in weeks. You can't...you can't ignore them forever." She was surprised he had skipped to the point so quickly, she was at least expecting a few awkward minutes of him beating around the bush, asking about the weather in that usual Scott McCall manner. Her eyebrows lifted high into her hairline as she took a moment to process his words.

"Is that what you drove all the way out here to talk about?" She asked with an incredulous scoff. His gaze on her didn't ease and his aura never lets up, no, he was serious. He wanted her to confide in him as she would a best friend and he wanted to help console her, she could see it in his eyes.

"You act like you have no one to talk to. You can talk to me, always, about anything - even _this_." He promised. Malia wasn't too convinced.

"There's nothing to talk about. We all know what happened." She shrugged coolly. He walked until he was within reaching distance of her, leaning on the right edge of her queen sized mattress.

"Yeah, but...everyone needs an outlet sometimes. And since you and Lydia aren't speaking anymore, I just thought that I could -"

"That you could what? Get me to act like nothing happened? Talk to them again? Play nice, maybe? I'm through playing nice for the benefit of people who obviously don't care about me." She said.

"Lydia cares about you. Stiles cares about you. I care about you. I'm just saying...if you want to talk about it, you can talk to me." He offered once again.

"Want me to talk about it? You want me to talk about how Stiles screwed me over? How he...made me feel so special to him and then said he was in love with Lydia the entire time? Or how about how every time I walk through those school hallways and see them holding hands it makes me sick? Is that what you want me to talk about, your stupid best friend and how he treats me like I'm the one that was taken by the Ghost Riders? Is that it, Scott? Because if I talk about it, I'm going to lash out," her eyes flashed a brilliant blue, shining brighter through the trapped tears, "I'm gonna hurt someone. I hate feeling like this, Scott! And I can't control it... _I can't_ ," her gaze moved from Scott's as she felt the first tear run down her cheek.

Wasting no time, he crawled into her bed and pulled her into his arms. She shifted her body so that she could hide her tear-streaked face into his dark hoodie and his arms tightened around her body as she made embarrassing sniffles on him. He allowed her to drown him in her tears that were seldom ever seen. He felt like she deserved to break down after being so incredibly strong for the pack for so long.

Her hands gripped his sides, clenching and grasping onto him in a way that would most likely hurt a human. His heartbeat beside her ear beat steady, it had a comforting rhythm that she focused her attention on. Being in Scott's arms gave her a flourishing feeling of opulence like she's never felt before, but it also made her dizzy, gave her stomach knots.

"You know...Stiles is doing his own thing," he spoke after a solid five minutes of caressing her head on his chest, "Maybe you should do your own thing, too."

It was a nice way of putting things, innocent like. Nothing sounded better to her than doing her own thing, moving on, waving the memories of Stiles away as she would if she were still reliant on her coyote instincts. But he was her first love, her first everything, and she couldn't erase that as easily as he did.

"I hate him, Scott. I do, I hate him. I hate him." She choked out. She repeated the phrase through clenched teeth hoping it would become true the more she stated it, hoping it would stop her tears. Scott pulled her impossibly closer and rested his chin on top of her head whispering soothing words that she couldn't quite understand behind her cries of hate. She was grateful that he didn't correct her, didn't defend his best friend, but instead let her feel everything she needed to feel. Her emotions were valid and Scott didn't want her to feel worse than she already did by being on everyone's side.

"I know...it's okay, you're gonna be okay," he moved his hands from her back, up to her shoulders, then her face. She lifted herself from his chest and stared up at him as his hands gripped her face. He smiled softly. She nodded back with a small smile of her own.

There was that dizzy feeling again, starting in her head and ending in her stomach. Her dewy cheeks heated with what she could only guess was embarrassment, but Scott gave no indication that he noticed it, or even cared. She realized then how this would look to her father if he so happened to burst through the door to announce dinner. Her, almost in the lap of Scott McCall, holding onto his torso as he held her face in his hands. He used his thumbs to rub the tears from her face.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Anytime," he replied.

She subconsciously leaned into his touch and smiled warmly. Tough as she was, she still loved being cared for as a normal human would. Scott made her feel soft and cared for, protected. Her forehead was met by his lips and the feeling of his skin of hers lingered long thereafter, as nearly thirty minutes passed and he was cradling her back in his arms and talking about random things to keep her mind off of her own issues.

"The campus is great and the people seem friendly." He muttered. Malia adjusted herself on him so that they were lying side by side, his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his torso.

"But?"

"But, we're all gonna be separated." He explained with a childish pout. She smiled brightly.

"No more Liam and Hayden? Can't be that bad." Scott knew which couple she really meant by that.

"What about me and you? You'll be deprived of my awesome cuddling skills." He smirked. She rolled her eyes at that despite the smile still edging on her lips.

"Don't get cocky, I've had better," she unraveled herself from his body out of spite and rolled to the other side of the bed. He laughed, following after her with open arms.

"Seriously unlikely, get back here," he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back into him. She scoffed, trying to wiggle herself free of him.

"You are _so_ not stronger than me, don't test me," she successfully pulled out of his grip and pushed him down to her pillows. Before he could move, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them, eyes glowing blue. He grunted trying to move his wrists out of her clutch and failing. To keep her grip stable, she lifted one leg across his stomach and leaned into him.

"Okay, you got me with your freakishly strong werecoyote powers. Now what?"

"Well, if we were in the wild this is usually the part where I would rip you limb from limb and eat you." She explained to the wide-eyed boy below her.

"How about we skip that part?" He asked, hopeful. Malia growled playfully, elongating her fangs down at him, then retracting them and laughing instead. As she took a moment to laugh at Scott's expression, he used the distraction to break free of her hold and quickly flip them around. She hit her pillows with a gasp and reached up to push him off, but his hand grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head. It was foolish to her how she was getting both of her wrists pinned down with one of Scott's hands. Malia huffed. Scott's eyes flashed red.

"Fine, you caught me off-guard," she whispered, transfixed by the glow of his eyes. "Pure luck." She sighs, moving to wiggle herself free and his fingertips trailed against her stomach before gripping her hips, pushing her back into the mattress. Her eyes widen and for one fleeting second, she imagines herself grinding against him, his hands slipping under her t-shirt. She'd never truly dug so deep into her thoughts about Scott that she reached any fantasies involving them, though she wouldn't deny that he's insanely attractive. She enjoyed his presence and his excessive cuddling, but was there a line that they'd both created and destroyed?

Scott's breathing pattern becomes broken and his cheeks redden as if reading her mind. Their pheromone scents were mixing in an intoxicating way that was just undeniable. He is incredibly turned on. "Malia...claws," he rasped, removing his hand from her wrists. Confused, she brought her arms back to level, surprised to see that her claws were extended. She retracted them with a blush.

"Of course I'll miss you when you start college," she began, very aware of his hand that still rests on her hip, "But you're not getting rid of me that easily, Scott. I'm going to bug you, like, all the time. I'm not gonna lose you because you're a few miles away." She used her hands on either side of the bed to push her body upright. Scott still remained between her legs. His eyes returned to a deep, smooth brown and he smiled.

"And what are your plans?" He asked, moving from between her to the side of her. She sighed in relief as he did so. She didn't want to do anything that would compromise their friendship...or the friendships around them.

"I'm gonna finish summer school, get my diploma, then take a year or two off."

"Did you look into colleges yet?"

"I mean, a little bit, but I want to focus more on myself before I pick a college."

He smiled at her, which turned her into a flustered mess. Flustered wasn't a Malia thing, but apparently, Scott could bring that out of her. He reached towards her face, moving a stray piece of hair from her face and smoothing it behind her ear. Her stomach was growing knots again, twisting and tearing apart her insides. She knew he could hear her increasing heartbeat because she could hear his. Her eyes dropped from his eyes to his lips.

"I think I -"

"You should go."

"Yeah."

He jumped from the bed like it was hot lava and raced to the door, already gripping the doorknob. He turned to her one last time and bit his lip.

"Call me, you know, if you wanna...talk or something." He blushed ferociously. Malia nodded, still a bit stunned at the feelings inside of her. He nodded and sped out of her room before she could so much as wave goodbye.

She doesn't realize that her heart is beating wildly until she lies back down and clutches her chest. There had been a line and she was afraid that she and Scott were teetering dangerously over it.


	3. Chapter 3

It was an odd feeling going to Beacon Hills High School without Scott McCall beside her ranting about the most recent burden in his life. She even kind of missed Liam, Hayden, Cory, and Mason hanging out in the hallways being overly affectionate with one another and making their weekly plans. She missed the click-clack of Lydia's four-inch heels followed by the lingering scent of Chanel in the air. She walked the hallways alone without a pack and without any real friends. Luckily, there were a few more seniors in summer school, so she didn't feel like the only fail of the graduating class. Scott texted her the day she began her credit recovery.

 **Don't worry, you're gonna do great.**

And she didn't quite know what to make of it, so she responded with a stale face emoji. He called her after every school day, usually just to rehash his entire day to her. Malia pretended to be annoyed with his excessive calling, but secretly a happiness swelled inside of her whenever her phone rang. He was the only one who called her anymore, the only one who had the decency to have real conversations with her and ask her about her shitty days spent in summer school. She didn't hear a lick out of everyone else for nearly three weeks, just the occasional text from Liam about how to deal with one of his weekly problems. Most of the time, she was in her room finishing a homework assignment and then falling asleep to one of the tv shows on her 'to watch' list (a five-page long list given to her from Lydia and Kira).

 **Pizza at my house?**

She checked her message with a small smile, then began typing back. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to hang out and eat pizza with Scott, but she felt that their relationship was much better through text messages. There was less pressure, less eye contact, less everything. It was safe.

 _ **Still studying. Raincheck?**_

 **Sure. Are you feeling alright?**

 _ **I'm fine.**_

 **I don't need to come over there, do I?**

 _ **Scott, really. I'm fine.**_

She was about to set her phone aside, but it began vibrating in her hand, flashing Scott's name in bold letters. She answered with a sigh.

" _Scott_."

"Why don't I believe you?" He asked. She lied back on her bed, staring up at her ceiling.

"I've been told I'm an ambiguous texter."

"Literally, just say the word and I'll be there."

"Scott, cut it out, I really am okay. I'm just irritated by the stupid assignments I need to do."

"Okay, okay, I believe you. But if you need anything, absolutely anything, just call me or text me. Alright?"

"I know, Scott. It's not like you don't remind me every five minutes."

"I'm sorry, it's just...I just really care about you and I want you to be happy," He hesitated in his words. Malia blushed into her hand despite no one being around to see it. It drove her insane that Scott had the ability to make her feel flustered like a pre-teen girl. He can make her blush and trip over words and it is just plain _scary_.

"I'm not always gonna be happy, Scott. And that's okay. My parents are both psychopaths, I think I've earned the right to be unhappy about a lot of things." She mentioned casually. Scott sighed in the receiver. She imagined he was rubbing his hands up and down his face wearing that wounded puppy look he has perfected.

"When are you gonna talk to Stiles and Lydia?" He asked. She rolled her eyes.

"Hopefully, never again. I thought I told you to not bring those two names up in the conversation anymore? It's over and done with, Scott, I'm not talking to them."

"Malia, don't you wanna be the mature one in this situation and just get this all out in the open?"

"No," she replied quickly. "Why are you so worried about this?"

"Because you're my pack, all of you! And you're all ignoring each other and being weird and I just want us to be together again. I'm tired, Malia, you've got to work this out." His tone shifted to one of authority. A pang of regret hit Malia's insides. She didn't realize how this must feel for Scott, being the alpha. Packs are stronger together and losing a pack member is like...losing a limb. Maybe that's why he never stops calling, why he always makes sure that she's okay. He doesn't want to lose her.

"Fine. I'll do it, Scott, just...just give me some time." She sighed, lying back on her pillows. She didn't need enhanced _were_ - _powers_ to know that Scott was smiling and nodding his head.

"Time. Right, you've got it. No problem. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow?" He asked. They hadn't seen each other in person since the last time he comforted her about her break up and she wanted to keep it that way. Lately, she's been feeling different about Scott and she would rather not try and inspect those feelings to find out what they really are.

"Oh, um, actually I've got a thing with my dad tomorrow." She lied. Her father works full days on weekdays and she doesn't usually see him until the weekend.

"But you're free this Saturday, right?"

"Nope. Um, more plans."

"Really?"

"Yep," She almost smacked her forehead at the absurd lengths she was going to in order to stay out of contact with Scott. It had to be obvious, but then again, Scott wasn't known for noticing the obvious.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yes, Scott!" She yelled, then cringed at herself. "I mean...I'm fine, but thanks for looking out. Look, we'll talk later, I've really got to finish studying, okay, bye." She ended the call, letting out a frustrated sigh. He's not an idiot, he'll realize that she doesn't want to see him. She just hopes it won't be a big deal.

* * *

She got a text from Lydia on Monday evening the following week and it was just three question marks followed by an angry emoji. She deleted the text from her phone and continued on her google search for ways to watch every season of Grey's Anatomy without paying for Netflix.

As far as she was concerned, Lydia had no reason to be confused or angry at how she was acting. No reason to act dumbfounded as to why Malia exiled herself from their land of delusion. Scott called her when she was five episodes deep into her new favorite doctors show and his voice suggested that he was going to pretend like she hadn't blatantly disagreed to see him in person last week. She was happy to play along, as long as they weren't talking about the couple who shall not be named.

"You're making fun of me for watching Grey's Anatomy and you watch South Park? Scott, you can't be serious!" Malia laughed. Scott scoffed on his end.

"We have enough drama in our own lives, we don't need a doctor's show to satisfy those needs. South Park is the humor we've been lacking for years." He explained as Malia kept laughing at his expense. She liked when things were this easy with Scott, when there wasn't any pressure to act a certain way or speak to him a certain way, it was just them.

"Maybe you've been lacking humor. I'm hilarious."

"Oh, really?"

"Duh. I think you'd like this show, Scott, it's about saving lives and stuff. You love that."

"Are you saying you want me to watch it with you?" He asked. Malia turned a horrible red.

"That's not what I said at all, actually."

"Subtext, Lia."

"How many psych papers _have_ you been writing?"

"Enough to already be on my way. Pop some popcorn." The line clicked as Malia opened her mouth to protest. She huffed in frustration, then walked to the kitchen to start the popcorn.

Scott is currently her best friend and that's what she's one hundred percent positive about, confusingly weird feelings aside, that was her one truth. Scott McCall is not only her alpha, but he's her best friend and he's always there for her. She wants to hold onto that more than anything and she never wants to let this thought stray away from her. She knows how paranoid he's being, how he's constantly calling her and making an idiot of himself trying to make sure that she doesn't leave the pack over something so beyond her control. She just wants him to know how wrong he is, how she'd never leave him, ever. He means too much to her.

When the popcorn was done, she poured it into a large bowl and brought it along with her back to the living room. Her laptop was propped on the table in front of the couch, paused on the beginning of an episode. She heard the motor of Scott's bike from two miles away. She moved to quickly unlock the door and then sat down again.

Scott knocked anyway.

"It's open!" She shouted. He walked through her door with a wide, goofy smile aimed directly at her, then shut the door and practically skipped towards her. She couldn't help the smile growing on her face at his antics. "Why are you so fucking happy?" She teased. He plopped on the seat beside her with a scoff.

"I drive all the way over here and this is how I'm greeted? I can't be happy to see you anymore?"

"Scott, when are you ever happy to see me?" she asks.

"Like, all the time!" He protests. Malia grinned up at him, then offered her bowl of popcorn towards him.

"Eat some popcorn, liar." He dug his hand in and smashed a handful of kernels into his wide mouth, making a mess of his clothes. She cringed. "That's attractive."

"I'm so sexy," he spoke through a full mouth of popcorn, some spewing out his mouth as he spoke. She made hacking noises and vowed to make him clean every single kernel from her couch.

"Try not to choke on a piece of popcorn while we're in the middle of an episode," she said while pressing play on the laptop. Once the episode started, she relaxed back into her couch, about three feet away from Scott with a fluffer pillow between them just in case. It was nice, to say the very least. Two buddies eating snacks and watching hospital drama. That is until Scott had to use the bathroom in the middle of episode five and sat at the border of the pillow after he came back. She grew uncharacteristically twitchy after that.

He stared at her with soft eyes and asked if she were cold. She replied that she's always cold. He plucked the pillow from between them and gently tossed it aside, settling in closer to Malia, then wrapping his arms around her with a loving smile. She blushed, then shyly tucked her head between his collarbone and chin.

"You're right, I'm addicted to this damn show. And those two are definitely in love," he pointed to the couple on screen making googly eyes at each other. Malia scoffed.

"Please. It won't last," she reached into the popcorn bowl and stuffed a handful in her mouth.

"You're kidding me, they're obviously gonna be together forever, look at them!" Scott argued. She quickly chewed down her popcorn to respond.

"It always seems that way at first. The flirty eyes, the giant hole-in-the-face smiles...trust me, they're doomed." Malia predicted, a frown settling onto her face. Scott used his hand to guide her face up to face him.

"Don't let one bad experience ruin your entire perception of love."

"Who said I was talking about Stiles?" She asked. He gave her deadpan eyes.

"C'mon, Lia. He was your first boyfriend."

"And, so far, my worst."

" _Malia,_ " He started.

"Back to the show now!" She growled, then turned back to the laptop. Scott rolled his eyes but gave her the time she needed to cool down from being reminded of her first heartbreak.

They finished the entire first season, discussed their favorite characters, played around with theories, then decided to make more snacks. Next thing you know, the timer is going off in the kitchen and they're taking out a tray of ten chocolate chip cookies, a small vanilla cake, more popcorn from the microwave, and two pop tarts from the toaster. They had a mission to accomplish: finish season two, and apparently that also included consuming the entirety of Malia's snack cabinet.

"Hey!" she smacked his hand away from her cabinet, "Don't you dare touch my beef jerky, McCall, I will literally murder you." Her eyes glowed blue. Scott laughed at her attempt to frighten him, grabbing the jerky anyway and running from the kitchen back to her living room with Malia hot on his tail. She growled as she tackled him to the floor and they fought over the tiny string of jerky like wild animals. Legs were flailing, fists were punching, and neither of them could tell who was actually winning. Malia couldn't even hold a straight face as they roughed each other up for the pathetic little jerky she's been saving to eat for weeks. She stopped reaching for the treat he was holding out of her reach and fell out laughing. Right alongside her, Scott joined her, shoving the jerky between them.

"Wanna share?" He asked. Malia nodded.

"Why are we so damn hungry?" She asked once they split the beef jerky and were munching through it. Scott shrugged.

"Sometimes, depending on what type of moon it is, our appetites can change," he explained. "It's super weird, dude. One day I'm good with just a cheeseburger for dinner and the next I'm not satisfied until I've had a three-course meal that includes steak."

"I feel the same way! Why haven't we talked about this before?"

"Well, we...never talked much. We were too busy crime fighting evil." He looked sad like he wished they did have more time to talk about weird Werecreature things.

"I hate when you make us sound like comic book characters." She grunted, despite the smile lighting her face and that dewy warmth she felt spreading through her cheeks. He inched closer to her with squinted eyes.

"You're lying," he pointed accusingly. "You're such a bad liar!" He laughed at her grumpy face.

"Shut up," she pouted.

They eventually got off the floor and continued on their mission, mouths filled with baked goods and eyes red from staring at Malia's laptop screen. At some point, they rearranged themselves so that they could lie down together and still see the screen. Scott cuddled her from behind as they slowly started drifting to sleep.

Malia had another peaceful rest in Scott's arms and kind of hated herself for it.

* * *

Malia yawned herself awake and squinted through the sunlight to see the masculine figure looming over her. She gasped, falling off the couch in the process of trying to break free of the arms still wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Dad!" She yelled. Her father didn't hide the disgust in his eyes. Scott's eyes popped open and he held his hands up and over his head as if they weren't just wrapped around Malia.

"I thought you said you were studying tonight." He glared down at her.

"I was! And then I finished and then Scott came over and -"

"Why the hell are there cookies everywhere?!" He gestured around the living room which did, in fact, have cookies strewn all over for no reason. She looked to Scott who shrugged.

"Listen, dad, I'll explain everything in a few minutes. Can we just get a minute?" She asked, silently pleading with her eyes for him to just leave. He huffed, glared at Scott, then walked down the hallway to his room. Malia sighed. Scott remained in his frozen 'don't shoot' position.

"That was..."

"Embarrassing. Come on, you gotta get outta here before he gets trigger happy." She lifted herself from the floor and pulled Scott up from the couch. They walked out onto the front porch and shut the door. Malia leaned against it.

There was this tension in the air like she should've said something cheesy to make him laugh and then he'd pull her in to wrap his arms around her one last time before her father came storming out with his gun in hand. She broke the gaze she kept with him, afraid to continue on with this thought process she was having. It was like the more she looked at him, the harder these thoughts were to ignore and push to the depths of her psyche never to be found again. And how could she deny how she felt when he looked so perfect with his bed-hair sticking up and clothes all wrinkled with that cute puppy-dog pout? It was all of these thoughts that made her reach out to grab his hand. He squinted down at their conjoined fingers, then back up at her. She bit her lip as she pulled him closer to her until they were chest to chest and their hearts were beating faster.

"Thank you," she whispered lowly, then guided the hand she was holding to her waist holding it there until he finally let go of her hand and held her there on his own. She reached up her arms up, tentative until they looped around his neck. His other arm joined her waist and squeezed tight, nearly lifting her off the ground as she tightened her grip on him. The sides of their faces were smushed together like they were sharing secrets, but only short breaths left their mouths.

The place that she is currently in with Scott is a place she never wants to leave. She doesn't want to go back, she doesn't want to go forward. She wants to stay in the moment with his arms around her waist and shallow breathing in her ear, heart thudding against her chest as she was sure hers was to his. She hated to pull away but she had to, or else she would have happily lived her entire life like that.

"For what?"

 _Everything_ , she wanted to say.

"Being here tonight. I needed it." She replied instead. Scott smiled.

"Maybe this weekend we can do it again? With fewer parents trying to kill me, of course." He offered.

"I can't promise anything. But, yeah, I think I'd like that." She agreed with a blush.

"And I only have one request before then."

"Oh, God."

"Talk to either Stiles or Lydia, I don't care which one, just work things out."

" _Scott_."

" _Malia_."

"Does it have to be _this_ week? I was thinking sometime around next year."

"It _has_ to be this week. Now, I'm gonna go because I'm pretty sure I heard a box of bullet shells being rattled. Don't forget to call me and tell me how it went." He pulled her face towards his to quickly kiss her forehead and then he sped off down her porch stairs to his motorbike. She stomped her feet at him like a petulant child but they both knew that this talk was long overdue and inevitable.

After a lengthy explanation of Scott McCall sleeping over and picking up all stray cookies from the living room she finally found time to send a text back.

 **To: Lydia**  
 **Thursday. 5pm. Meet me at the bleachers on the lacrosse field and we'll talk.**


	4. Chapter 4

Bells chimed in a staccato rhythm forcing Malia's eyelids to open, squinting harshly as her quickly-tearing eyes adjusted to the horrible fiery light rays beaming from her window. A lowly growl rumbled in her chest soon thereafter followed by one from her stomach that had more to do with the fact that she forgot to make dinner the previous night than the sun trying to blind her. She blinked the crust away from her eyes as she sat up and tossed the heavy blankets from over her shoulders. It was officially Wednesday, which meant she had one full day to stress about the inevitable conversation she'd have to have with one Lydia Martin. Not that stressing was something she'd initially planned to do when she fell asleep the previous night, but she could already feel the tight knots forming in her stomach, the quickening of her heartbeat, and the burn in her throat as she envisioned coming face to face with Lydia on Thursday.

She thought of the high heels the redhead would most likely wear, pushing her at least two inches above Malia - as if she wasn't already superior enough in her natural height. She thought of how Lydia could debate the most know-it-all of professors into her submission and do her nails at the same time, and how her admiration of this character trait would come back to bite her in the ass come Thursday. Beneath this newfound shakiness, this creeping sadness in her heart and defeat that settled deep into her bone marrow. She missed Lydia.

Lydia became like a sister; a high-maintenance, mind-numbingly intelligent, extremely caring and beautiful sister. And how could she not? After the demanding task of saving each other's lives every other month, things just clicked. Maybe not at the same time or in the same way, but they both began looking at the other differently and growing this seemingly unstoppable feminine bond solidified through the linking of their arms in the school parking lot, through the lingering smiles given in the hallways, the animated movie marathons, the sisterly forehead kisses, and the echoing midnight laughter they shared. Malia and Lydia were real and healthy and stable in every way that you could ever hope to be with a friend. And maybe they didn't see each other much or text each other back and forth or even have deep conversations - none of it mattered, they were friends who would risk their lives for each other. Malia stretched her arms, pushing an uncontrollable yawn from her mouth. Were.

No one had ever told her of Stiles' deeply troubling obsession with her friend, nor had they mentioned his continuous pining that seemed to abruptly cease after his time at Eichen House. For that reason, she never had any worries about Stiles and Lydia because she knew that they were best friends that cared about each other.

 _Huh_. Showed how little she knew.

She had to slowly come to terms with the fact that she was the convenient second choice, the easily accessible late-night call to make Stiles happy, the girl that was never supposed to get in the way of the epic one-sided tale of endless unrequited pining but somehow did. And it distracted him, sure, he got a kick out of her claws sliding down his bare back and the shockingly impressive things she could do with her tongue, but did he really enjoy her? Did he find solace in her pillow talk after everything was said and done? Did he crave her conversation during late nights the way that she craved his? Did her natural abrasiveness make him want more? Did he love the way she cuddled him into a good nights sleep and traced the contours of his face when he wasn't paying attention? Did he even love the music on her playlists? The way she danced when no one was watching? Did he love her?

 _No_ , she shook the thought out of her dazed mind and tried to focus on getting prepared for the day. If she didn't burn a slice of bread in a buttery pan, her father would go to work on an empty stomach. She wasn't sure if he appreciated her effort or not, they didn't usually speak to each other some mornings. Most mornings. He wasn't a very talkative man, he left all the chit chat to her mother before...

 _No_ , she shook her head out of another depressing thought and slipped out of bed. It wasn't a big deal, not speaking more than fifteen words to her father most of the time, she wasn't much of a talkative person herself. Besides, things like that didn't matter much. He cared about her deeply, which was more than she could say about a lot of people nowadays. And he wasn't a killer (also more than she could say about a lot of people). They had moments, though, some better than others.

She recalls the day she realized that Stiles broke up with her. She sank into her couch in the late evening, arms crossed, eyes vacant, and heart broken. **What happened?** She hadn't noticed her father sitting on the loveseat beside her, but he looked worried as he pointed out her sullen state. **You never liked Stiles much, right?** Was her dry response. He scrunched his thick eyebrows because **Of course, I like Stiles**. She fought back tears and nodded in acceptance. She didn't have to say it, it was written on her face. **Listen, honey, I know we don't have a woman in the house anymore. I know that it must be difficult confiding in me when you're like this, but I always wanna listen to the things you have to say. And you need an outlet, you can't bottle everything up, Malia**. He crossed the living room to pull her shaking shoulders into his chest and hold her until she turned into him to hide how seamlessly her tears fell from her face. **I love you, dad**. She whispered so lightly he probably didn't hear, but it was okay because he already knew.

She was halfway through spreading butter on bread before her eyes drifted to the refrigerator door where an orange sticky note stuck out against the stark white like a sore thumb.

 _Gone to work a little early. Heat up the lasagna tonight :) - Dad_

She sighed, ripped the paper from the fridge, and crumpled it up. Shrugging, she tossed the idea of burning the buttered bread and took a bite from it as she waddled to the bathroom.

Once she finished washing, she walked back into her room to see her phone buzzing on her pillow. She didn't have to look at it to know that it was Scott's optimistic good morning text that would include, at least, ten emojis to describe how he was feeling. It was admittedly her favorite part of the morning, but she'd never ever admit that to anyone besides herself. Being around Scott was something that felt new and familiar at the same time, especially since two days ago they were engaging in a cookie war and fighting over slim jims. It's gotten to the point where just the mention of his name makes her stomach flutter and hearing his voice sends chills up and down her arms. His charm kind of snuck up on her, like suddenly relatable lyrics to your favorite song. He spoke with an unprecedented optimism that she couldn't even fathom having, and when he talked, he made you feel everything that he could feel with just his expressions alone. And he's so proud of her for the tiniest of accomplishments, the things she wouldn't even think to reward herself for, the things she hates about herself.

She immediately stops her mind from wandering too far down the bottomless pit of things she notices about Scott McCall and grabs her phone instead. Her good morning message was actually a missed call from Hayden Romero.

She and Malia were never ones to converse much, but the girl could be a surprisingly delightful company - when she didn't have a two-hundred pound beta wolf stuck to her lips. But they only exchanged phone numbers for emergency purposes only, so this couldn't be anything good. Frowning, Malia calls her back. She answers on the second ring.

"Malia, thank goodness!" Hayden celebrates.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I just - ah, remember like three months ago when we were all hanging out at the movies and that popcorn guy was rude to me so you glared at him until he almost cried and called his manager and then you said that if I ever needed help with douchebags to just call on you?" She asks without taking a breath. To be honest, Malia only agreed to go to the movies with them because they promised her free popcorn (which was a lie).

"I was just being polite."

"Please, Malia, I really need your help. Please, please, please, pleeeeeaaaase -"

"Oh, God, _fine_ , if it'll make you stop doing that."

"You see, Liam and I have been regulating a club this summer, you may have heard of it, the one that serves 'werewolf friendly' drinks - anyway! Just a few days ago, these big werewolf guys came in looking for trouble, knocked Liam unconscious and tried to hurt me, too."

"Did you get a few hits in, at least?"

"I did, but I'm not sure it really hurt them. No one ever told me I'd have to deal with biker wolves, okay, I did not sign up for this. And the screwed up thing is that we got kicked out of the club and they got to stay. As long as those guys have their reign of terror there, we aren't allowed back in."

"Find a different club," she answers coolly.

"We will never find another club that sells drinks that actually makes us drunk," Hayden complains, making mildly amusing growling noises through the receiver. Malia makes a mental note to try this club out for herself, despite how shady it sounds.

"Find a boyfriend who can defend you?"

"Muhhh-lee-uhhhh," Hayden whines, showing her age through all the false vibrato she wears like a second skin. Malia's eyes roll so far back into her head they almost get stuck. "If you can just get inside and deal with it yourself, we won't have this problem."

"Isn't your big sister a cop? Let her deal with this."

"This is a supernatural problem. I don't think dragging my very human sister in it would be good for anyone. You know what, just forget it, I don't know why I didn't ask Scott or Lydia first."

"Because Scott wouldn't want you and Liam going to a dangerous werewolf club anyways and Lydia won't start screaming at people unless it's life or death." Malia jabs. If Hayden were to call anyone to fix a problem, Malia felt pretty esteemed that she was first on the list. She always was picked last for gym class in grade school, mostly because of her underdeveloped primal instincts to play for herself and betray her teammates. It felt good to be the first pick. With this in mind, she huffs stubbornly and scrunches her face. "I'll handle it this weekend," she sighs into the receiver before she could change her mind.

"Yes! Thanks, Malia."

"Don't tell Scott," she adds, knowing that if Scott found out she was putting herself in a position of possible danger, he'd interfere immediately and try to handle it himself like a true martyr.

"Don't worry, this is only between us. I didn't even tell Liam. His pride would swell if he knew I was calling in for reinforcements. He'd probably get himself knocked out again," the girl giggled.

She sighs, running a stressed hand from the top of her hairline to her chin. It feels instinctually wrong to hide anything from Scott, but she knows that he won't let her do anything alone because he thrives off helping his friends (and anyone within a ten-mile radius). Malia likes feeling needed - just her, even if it is only Hayden trying to use her for strength and intimidation. She'd take what she could get.

Her mind was elsewhere as she was taking her calculus test later that day. The teacher kept throwing cautious looks her way as if she'd suspect Malia to look over her shoulder and cheat at any given second. It was hard to focus when she knew exactly which classroom she was in and whose seat she was preoccupying.

Kira Yukimura used to give her supportive nudges from this seat and rub her shoulder whenever she received a bad grade on a test. She would tap on her shoulder repeatedly until Malia turned and asked what was wrong. This seat used to be her favorite part of the school day, her third period class with Kira and Lydia. But, she and Kira were closer than she thinks she'll ever be with Lydia. Kira was like a real sister, someone who she could text back and forth with until six in the morning and never get bored with the conversation. Kira was the best friend she's ever had and probably will ever have. And Malia's a _bad_ friend.

She's a horrible friend. What is she even doing? Why is she around Scott so much? Is she really no better than Lydia is? Malia suspended her pencil, staring blankly at the eerie white of her paper until she wanted to give up and leave. All the guilt she's been accumulating over the past couple months, all the grief and gloom hit her full force as she struggled to answer a question that she should've known the answer to. Kira would hate her. Kira would feel betrayed.

And there she was, sitting in her best friend's seat when she should've been sitting on her own.

Once the test ended, she hauled herself from the seat and out into the hallways as it felt like the walls were closing in all around her. She ran to her locker and leaned against it, letting the cool metal of it battle the heat from her flushed face. She didn't realize how dependent to Scott she's become until her immediate thought was to drive to his house and confess to him exactly how she was feeling. She's been spending so long talking to him and crying to him like some immature brat that she doesn't even know how to stop. It has to end.

"Hey...are you alright?" A foreign voice snapped Malia out of her stupor. She turned, noticing a familiar looking boy leaning against the lockers beside her. She took him in for a moment, showing brief admiration for his lightning blue eyes and broad shoulders. He probably sat in the back of one of her classes, she's sure she's seen him before. She nods up at him. "It was pretty rude," his voice is low and sultry, "Ms. Cole glaring at _you_ when _I_ was the one who was cheating." He flashes her a wolfy grin that makes her lift a curious eyebrow at him.

"Do I know you?" She asks, sounding as brassy as she wanted. He seemed entertained by it.

"Andrew," he sticks his hand out expectantly. She stares down at it like an alien object before finally placing her hand in his.

"Malia," she replies, taking her hand back and setting it on her hip.

"I know," he smirks in a cocky kind of way that Malia finds inexplicably engaging. "I used to sit next to you in junior year. You almost scorched my hand off in chemistry. You didn't apologize, either."

"If I didn't apologize, you probably didn't deserve one." She answered. He smiled again, giving her an appreciative once over.

"I guess some things don't change," he states, motioning to her in a vague way, "but if you ever feel like apologizing to me, I'm only a few seats behind you." He winks as he brushes past her. Malia rolled her eyes at his nonchalance. She doubts she'll even remember his name, let alone apologize to him for something she did in her first year of high school. She had bigger fish to fry - like Scott and Lydia.

She ignored Scott's phone call after classes ended. She overlooked his messages as she made it home. Everything involving Scott McCall suddenly made her feel very corrupt. It gave her this gut-twisting, soul-crushing, unbearable guilt to even grow excitement over his attentiveness to her. Kira would want Scott to move on and find someone, but not her best friend. Not Malia. _Never_ Malia. So, consequently, she decided to cross herself out of the equation. This didn't stop the voicemails from beeping into her notifications all day.

 **6:00** p.m - "Malia, hey, uh, you're not answering and I called like three times already. I don't know, maybe you're busy, but you usually call back by this time. If you get this, please, let me know if you're okay."

She takes a nap and turns her notifications off. When she arose, she couldn't help but listen to the additional voicemail.

 **7:00** p.m - "Lia, seriously. If your phone is on silent, I'm gonna be so upset."

He sounds a bit pissed off now, but the next one is what made her get to her feet.

 **9:00** p.m - "Okay, I'm on my way."

She could hear the engine of his motorbike roaring in the background, so there was no telling how close he was already. She rushed to the front door, making sure it was properly locked with the door chain and all. She even cut her lights out, in hopes that he'd take one look at the seemingly empty house and be on his way somewhere else.

She successfully locked all her doors, but, foolishly, not the windows.

"Scott, what the hell!" She yelled as he walked towards her, not bothering to close the window he just climbed through. She momentarily lost her breath as she was yanked into a hug. She stilled in his embrace, feeling awkward and stiff as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into her neck. The room wasn't providing her with enough air, despite the window being open, and she was still silently wheezing for oxygen to fill her suddenly frail lungs. Her arms were still frozen comically in the air, uncertain. She briefly noticed that Scott was scenting her and that observation alone is what made her shove him away. He backed off, eyes lost and confused. She hated when his face did that. Hated that it's her that made his face do that. She tried to block the hurt look on her face with a stern one, but she knew that everything she did was transparent to Scott. He knew when she was faking more than anyone.

The silence is thunderous and Scott's gaze doesn't reel, his expression doesn't break, his heartbeat doesn't increase. Maybe he knew what she was trying to do.

"You need to leave," she says, surprised by how insecure her voice came out. He ground his teeth together, thoughtful. "I don't need you here." She added. His eyebrows lift in surprise.

"What's all this about?" He asks simply, with no intention of moving. Malia swallows back the hurt. She doesn't want to do this, but if she didn't, who knows how far this little feeling her stomach might stretch? Not like Scott could ever feel the same way about her, but it's the principle of it. Accepting his innocent kisses and cuddling like a friend would, but secretly enjoying it more than she should. She can't do that to Kira.

"I...," she begins shakily, wondering what she could possibly say. She had no Stiles, no Kira, and no Lydia - might as well even the odds. "I just need some space," she finally spoke, making it a point not to look directly at him. "So," she wipes her eyes and stares down at her bare feet, "you have to leave."

"No," he articulates, shaking his head adamantly. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that he would just disappear along with her feelings. "Lia, I can't help you if you don't communicate with me!" Her head suddenly lifts up and she's staring right into the red eyes of an alpha. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks.

"No, Scott, you didn't do anything. But, I just think that -"

"I know what you're trying to do," he interrupts. She squints up at him suspiciously. "Do you really think that just because no one else is here that I'd leave easily, too?" He asks, expression deadly serious. She turns away from him, moving quickly across the room to get to her door. She can't stand the tension any longer. "Malia...look at me," he calls out, but she already has one hand wrapped around her golden door knob and a single tear threatening to fall from her face.

In the next second, she feels his strong presence behind her, hovering over her shoulder, waiting for her to acknowledge him in the dimness of her room. She tries to open the door, only for Scott's hand to push it back into the wall with a loud thud. She can't bare to look back at him, so she leans her head into the door and hopes that he'd let her leave. But, of course, he doesn't. He has her trapped between himself and her door, close enough to her back that she can feel his every breath hitting her neck. She struggled to focus on the cool wood of the door against her forehead and not his presence being so incredibly close to hers.

"Turn around," he whispers, "and look at what I'm doing, at where I am. I'm with you. I'm here with you and I'm not going anywhere. I understand when you say you need space, Lia, I do, but you haven't talked to anyone but me in a long time, so I don't give a fuck about your space. Okay? You want me to leave you...it's like you're _expecting_ it, but I promise I'm not going anywhere." He uses his free hand to wrap around her own hand still clutching the doorknob. "You could line these walls with mountain ash and grow a field of wolfsbane outside your window, but you won't get rid of me, you won't stop me from caring about you, and saving you, and protecting you, and being your friend."

Her heart swelled with this unabridged warmth that she could feel from the plump of her cheeks down to her underbelly. She uses the door to wipe the tears falling from eyes. Scott's right, there is no getting rid of him, not mentally nor physically. He will always be there and she would have to deal with that using a different method. She whirls around too quickly, nearly knocking into Scott as she did so. Once he see's the dewy state of her face and redness in her eyes, he frowns and uses his thumb to wipe off the rest of her tears.

 _God, her heart hurt._

"Scott," she whimpers, "you don't understand." He stares at her, confused. "I...," she begins. _I can't be around you because you do these things like wipe my tears with your thumb and pull me into your arms to get comfortable and it's so fucking sweet and it makes me want to kiss you, you dumbass. You also brush my hair behind my ears and snuggle with me and fight with me over slim jims and it hurts so fucking much because I want you more and more every day, but I can't have you. I can never have you and that's why you need to leave me_. "I think you're an amazing friend." She stated. He smiles, although he doesn't look quite comfortable with the obviously out-of-the-blue statement.

"Are you done pushing me away?" He asks. She nods, painfully hyper-aware of his hand still lingering on the side of her face. Her heart aches, but she guesses she has to deal with that little problem another time. "You gonna stop locking me out?" He questions with a playful smile. She chuckles under her breath.

"I make no promises for that one," she jokes, intentionally knocking his hand away from her face. His face brightens despite her dig and before she could even process what he was doing, she was being lifted into the air and over his shoulder. She yelps then hit him as he began moving them. "Put me down! Are you serious right now?" She laughs, hitting his back multiple times. Her world spun around three times in a blurry mess before she was being thrown, freefalling from Scott's grasp, then landing on a plush surface. She screeches when she noticed Scott also mid-air and rolled to the side, making Scott faceplant into her bed. She stares up at her ceiling and smiles at the awkward idiot on her bed. She moved to roll off her bed, but Scott caught her before she could and pulled her back to the middle with him.

"Are you doing anything on Saturday?" He asks. She almost replies with no, but then she remembers Hayden and her whiny voice.

"I'm gonna get drunk," she gives him a giddy smile. He looks like a mixture of amusement and confusion.

"You know we can't, though." Scott reminds her.

"I may have an... _inside source_ on where to score some werewolf friendly alcohol. So, I'm gonna get fucking trashed and probably fall asleep on a sidewalk somewhere." Malia planned with a small smile. Scott raises his brows.

"I mean, I have so many questions about this, but seriously? You think that's a good idea? Your first time getting drunk and you'll be by yourself, probably surrounded by a bunch of shady people?" His face scrunches up like he smells something foul. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm a big girl."

"Your inhibitions will be lowered, your powers will most definitely be weaker, and your brain will be moving ten times slower. I'm going with you." He finalized.

"You wanna do it, too," she teases in a sing-song voice, poking his chest.

"Maybe one day. But, if anything happens, one of us needs to be alert."

"It's no fun if you don't do it with me," she huffs, turning on her other side and crossing her arms. Scott pulls her by her shoulder so that she falls flat on her back, then moves on top of her. She hid her blush by glaring at him. Does he even notice how he acts around her?

"You think you can peer pressure me?" He asks.

"Yeah," she answers with a snort, pushing his body away from hers. He fell to his side ungracefully.

"Oh, really? Well, I'm not convinced." Malia knew his words were a challenge once she saw his tiny smirk and she told herself to ignore him and try to get some sleep, but she was having too much fun. She turns to face him now, face grave, eyes purely delighted.

"Alright then. You're a true alpha," she starts with. Scott's eyes flash red, sending an unexpected wave of heat through Malia. She clears her throat. "And you're constantly protecting people and being a good samaritan. Surely, the pressure gets to you. Makes you wanna blow off steam. Where do you find your release?" Malia asks rhetorically. Scott leans in closer to answer anyway.

"In the way that most teenage boys get their release," he whispers suggestively. She giggles, covering her face with both her hands as Scott pats himself on the back for his quick reply.

"No, you idiot. I'm talking about drinking. Do you know how many alphas probably can't get wasted? They would kill for a hard drink after a long day. Imagine all that stress just washing off of you as you enter a different mindset." Malia pushes him so that he's lying on his stomach, then straddles his back. She doesn't hesitate in squeezing her hands on his shoulders.

"You definitely feel stressed," she whispers as her hands begin massaging circles into his upper back. As she rubbed, she concentrated on taking a bit of his stress away. She felt it transferring through his shoulders and into her veins. A sudden rush of anxiety hit her. He sighs beneath her fingers as she continues her persuasion. "Not only will it make you more relaxed, it'll make you feel good," she pressed her fingers into a certain part of his back that made him give a purring kind of noise. "It'll make you feel warm all over. And you'll forget about all your problems, if only for one second. Doesn't that sound good?" She asks while flexing her fingers up and down his back.

"Yeah," he moans. Malia tensed but kept at massaging him.

"So, you're gonna get drunk with me?" She asks with a smirk.

"Nope," he laughs as she stops her finger work and glares down at him, "but this definitely feels great, keep going." He gestures to his back, expecting her to proceed. She rolls her eyes and climbs from his back onto her side of the bed.

"No. I only give massages to people that I like."

"You don't like me?" He pouts, crawling over to her. "Nah, you love me."

She prayed he didn't hear her heartbeat increase. She slips under her covers instead of acknowledging his statement and turns on her side.

"Goodnight, Scott."

He keeps a respectful distance from her, unlike most nights. Rather than saying goodnight back, he reaches around and kisses her temple. It's not that easy to fall asleep this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Her morning began with a crack of thunder and pitter-patter of rain hitting her window. She blinked herself to consciousness, suddenly regretting never shutting her window the previous night. She moved to get up and close it, but an arm wrapped firmly around her waist restricted her from moving. Scott predictably couldn't last an entire night without cuddling her like a giant puppy. She tapped his arm patiently.

"What?" He asks, voice hoarse and deep. Still far more coherent than Stiles and his nonsense morning ramblings.

"I can't get up with you holding me hostage here," she wiggled, trying to pull free. Scott reluctantly removed his arms from her and snuggled back into her pillows.

She got up to close her window shut, then walked back to the bed. Scott's snoring was so obnoxious, she doesn't even know how she managed to stay asleep the entire night. Not to mention the slob crusted over his mouth, which she cringed to before hitting his shoulder. He moaned, turning over on his side and smiled drowsily.

 _How is he still so adorable? It doesn't make sense._

Malia knows that if she likes him like this, with his hair matted to his head and dried slob coated over his chin (and her pillow!) she must really like him. She chucked her pillow at his head, which he ignored, and tried to sound as menacing as she could given that it was - she glanced at her bedside clock - six in the freaking morning.

"Come on, Scott, I've gotta get ready for school," she frowns down at him as he pushes the pillow she chucked at him to the floor. His eyes are squinted, barely making an effort to fully open and acknowledge her words. She crossed her arms, silently hoping to radiate that she really needed him to leave. Scott either got the vibe and didn't care or just decided to be difficult this morning. She smacked his leg once to see what his reaction would be, but he remained still, probably falling into a deep sleep again. "Don't say I didn't warn you," she whispers mostly to herself seeing as Scott wouldn't cooperate with her and climbs back into bed. Her hands slowly move to his face, hovering over his nose and mouth tentatively before quickly clamping down on him. He doesn't react to her fingers pinching his nostrils together at first, but after a few seconds without oxygen, he sputtered awake fiercely.

" _Ah_! Malia, what the _fuck_!" He shrieks, smacking her hands away from him and holding his chest. She only smiles, a wide show of bright teeth that she knew would either frighten him or charm him. He shakes his head. "Do you have to be so freaking terrifying in the morning?"

"I tried to wake you up the easy way and that didn't work. At least now I know how to get you up."

"I'm sure that's how you get anyone up since no one wants to wake up and _die of suffocation_."

"Hey, I didn't have to wake you up."

"Yes, you did because you have to get ready and go to school!"

"I _knew_ you could hear me, you liar! See, now I don't feel so bad about almost killing you."

Scott grumbled something under his breath as he pushed the covers away from him and slid to the edge of the mattress.

Was it terribly awful that Malia was finding his every movement to be the mesmerizing? Malia spent most of the time he used stretching and finding his shoes stealing glimpses up and down his body. Scott has a great body, there's never been a doubt about that. His arms are so obviously toned, even in those soft hoodie-shirts he seems to have a never-ending supply of. Her eyes drifted to the back of his neck and lingered there, which may have been a werecoyote thing, but all she could think about was her teeth biting his flesh - less of in a murderous, survival way and more of in a sexual, claiming way.

"Did you hear me?"

Malia realized a second too late that he was addressing her and blinked away her inappropriate thoughts. Scott has this look on his face like he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

"Huh?" She asked.

"What are you thinking about?" He has that annoying smirk on his face that has Malia questioning whether alphas had the ability to read minds or not. As far as she was concerned, Scott didn't possess any such power, so he had no reason to have that sly look on his face. She could've been thinking about anything!

Though, sadly, she responded to his suspicious question with,

"Bread!"

As soon as she said it, she knew it was a huge mistake. Scott squinted curiously.

"Bread?" He asked. No taking it back now. She held her head up higher, sticking to her ridiculous excuse.

"Yes, bread... **toast**! I was wondering if you wanted toast." She inwardly cringed at herself. It was a nice save, though, if she did say so herself. Scott assessed her lies, looking at her with a slight hint of suspicion in his kind eyes. Then, after a long stare at the faux confidence radiating from her, he leans his head to the side, sliding his hand across his neck as if massaging a muscle. Her eyes widen at the flash of his nails raking down the side of his bare neck. The movement almost seemed deliberate, but Malia couldn't be too sure because she was never ever sure about anything when it came to Scott.

He smiled then, gliding closer to where she still sat on her bed. She glances up at him, desperately trying to find a hint of anything mischevious in his eyes.

Nothing. He's really just oblivious.

"I would love some toast," he says finally, and she wondered how he could make even that sound sexy.

He didn't say anything as Malia left his bread in the toaster for far too long and served him a charred disaster that should've been golden. She tried her best. Scott had the decency to eat the entire thing with minimal cringing as if she didn't barbecue stale bread and then serve it to him on a paper plate. She blushed down at her feet as he scarfed down her quick meal and chased it with a glass of water. Scott asks her about school, which she rolls her eyes to, but decides to give him a few minor details about it - things like her math teacher expecting her to cheat, the gum that she accidentally touched under Scott's old desk (stuck there by him, apparently), and the cocky guy that felt he deserved an apology from Malia because of a failed science experiment. For some reason, he paused at the latter and gave her a confused stare.

"So, this guy who you barely know just walked up and started flirting with you?" He asked. Malia scrunches her face up, shaking her head for good measure.

"He wasn't flirting with me," she explained, "he was being an asshole."

"Malia, that's how guys flirt! Some guys. Not me. I mean, I hope not." He stated, bashful.

"I've seen you flirt. It's more like an awkward, goofy, puppy-dog eyed love confession more so than anything."

Scott gaped, shaking his head as he muttered, "Maybe when I was a sophomore," and to that Malia snorted. "But I like to think that I've gotten past that stage."

"No, yeah, sure. As long as _you_ think that." Malia teased. Scott pushed her shoulder, mouth quirked up in fondness. After breakfast, they said hugged goodbye, with Scott whispering in her ear about how proud he is of her taking initiative in the whole Lydia situation. If she messed this conversation with Lydia up, she's afraid that they may never return back to the easy smiles and lingering hugs. They might just be strangers again, only speaking to each other when it's absolutely necessary - and, thinking back on it now, she hated that phase. Being relatively new to the pack, only recognized as Stiles' feral girlfriend, made her out to be some sort of untouchable, angry, bitchy newcomer and everyone would walk around eggshells when they were with her. They were friendly but distant. It made Malia feel as though she were an outlier in her own pack, participating in the action but falling behind in the fun. Stiles made it his duty to drag her to pack related things - birthdays, picnics, and game nights alike, but no matter what, it seemed as if Kira was the only one comfortable enough around her to pull her into a long embrace when she walked in or hit her arm if she said anything too mean.

She needed that comfort, that physical contact to bring her back to reality. To make her feel solid again, so she could look around at everyone and think _'I am here with everyone. I am a part of this'._ She could never thank Kira enough for giving her that, so she shouldn't take it for granted. Especially not by lusting after Scott like some animal in heat.

Summer school dragged on as it usually did, with barely anyone conversing with one another, focused completely on finishing their courses and getting the fuck out of the hell hole that is Beacon Hills High. Malia submerged herself in her work in order to take her mind off of everything. She knew this stuff, she knew she did. She could finish her entire course in the next few days if she could stay away from the pack for that long. She almost smiled to herself as she finished another test, feeling mildly accomplished, imagining the ecstatic look on Scott's face once he realizes she's going to pass earlier than expected.

However, she needs a distraction from all things Scott. If she were going to do anything, it would be to do right by her best friend and not go behind her back and flirt with Scott. She just needed to redirect her sexual energy towards someone else. And if what Scott said was true, then she already knew someone who was willing to go out with her.

She waited for him after class.

"Hey, asshole!" She calls out as he brushes past her.

He turns around with that permanent smirk on his face. He's not the worst choice. He's, at least, five inches taller than her, which is always a bonus for Malia in regards to guys and has this sandy blonde hair slicked back into a man bun - she can tell he thinks very highly of himself. His clothes aren't nearly as obnoxious as his hair, thankfully. He wears modest gym shoes and a basic white tee with blue jeans. Not that Malia cared much about materialistic values anyway, she's just glad he isn't wearing Nike high socks and a muscle shirt.

"It's Andrew, actually," he walks his way towards her, gaining a sudden confidence in his walk that wasn't there before. She shrugs.

"I don't have to apologize to you," she says without a hint of pity in her voice. He laughs at this. "Mostly because I have no recollection of ever working with you on a science project."

"Then, why are you talking to me?" He asks, crossing his arms across his chest, a motion that only made his muscles more prominent in his short sleeve. Malia appreciated the view unabashedly, then stared back into his electric eyes.

"Because you're going to take me out to dinner tomorrow night." She told him. His eyes widen as he's visibly shaken up and caught off guard by Malia's forwardness. It was almost cute the way he tripped over his words, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"What if I have plans?" He asks.

"Cancel them." She replied coolly. Andrew had the decency to blush.

"Okay, um, yeah, they're gone. Cancelled. So, where are we going?" He asks, slowly gaining cockiness back. Malia remains stoically uninvolved with his reactions. He was kind of predictable, in that snarky jackass way that she's seen in plenty of nineties teen movies.

"I don't know," Malia tried thinking of places to eat in Beacon Hills, shocked to come up empty. Stiles never took her out for real out-on-the-town date nights and the pack never really had time to go anywhere fancy with each other. "Find somewhere nice, but casual enough that I can still wear my shorts. You're paying, if that wasn't clear," she articulated, kind of hoping he didn't take her dry humor as bitchiness. Andrew scoffs.

"So, I'm paying and you're not even going to dress up?"

"I'll start dressing up if you impress me enough. I don't owe you a goddamn thing. Unless you don't want to go out with me..." she looked elsewhere, ignoring his fixated gaze. She could tell that he was beginning to panic, his heart rate increased rapidly. He stepped into her space, grabbing her hand that was dangling at her side and intertwining his fingers with hers. She raised her eyebrows at his gesture.

"No, I want you. I'm...I'm sorry, I'm just not used to girls being so blunt with me. But you're not like other girls." Malia rolled her eyes at that. She bet he thought that comment made her feel so special when in reality she wanted to cringe. He's just a distraction, anyway. And he's super pretty, so that's a plus. She gave him her number and address and told him to pick her up when he's ready.

"Yes, ma'am," he faked a salute before leaving. Malia just hopes she could stand an entire date with him. With that thought in mind, she navigated from the front of the school to the lacrosse field. She expected the walk there to be a bigger deal than it was, maybe have a gang of wolves trying to attack her before she could make it to Lydia. Or, she'd hear Lydia screaming bloody murder (quite literally) and rush over to help defeat some new evil creature. But it was dreadfully ordinary, so much so that it made her anxious.

Lydia was waiting for her on the bleachers, front row, and center. Malia walked cautiously, aware that her presence was acknowledged by the red-head.

" _Malia_ ," she whispers, as though she can't believe she's finally speaking to her. Malia sits down near - not beside - her. Lydia turns her body to face Malia head on and she has that determined look in her eyes, the kind of look that usually meant she's about to get her way. "You look well."

"You look like shit," Malia replies as she gives Lydia a once over. She expected her to show up in her finest outfit, but she was draped in a large sweatsuit that Malia didn't even know Lydia owned. Her high heels were replaced for dirty sneakers, which...also, a big surprise from Lydia's wardrobe. And her hair was a state. Not even the ponytail she secured it in could hide how obviously dry and lifeless it was, sitting stale on her head, messy like she's been running her hands through her scalp like mad. Even her eyes seemed tired with only the slightest hint of bags underneath from lack of sleep, but nothing too drastic like pimples on her face or anything because let's face it, she looks a mess, but she's still Lydia freaking Martin.

"There goes that brutal honesty that I have no idea why I miss so much," Lydia laughs. Malia glances elsewhere. Lydia's eyes are too vulnerable for her, smile too open. "I was thinking about last summer...how we basically lived off junk food and watched every Nicholas Sparks movie we could find." She smiled. Malia closed her eyes. "And you thought I didn't see you crying at the end of The Vow, so you said it sucked. I remember that night because...that was the first time I saw you as...I don't know, _who you are_. It was easy to forget how human you are when you were growling at everything with a pulse."

"Where are you going with this?"

"We laid down a solid foundation for our friendship. We had fun and we laughed and I enjoyed your company because you're like a sister to me. I don't know why you stopped answering my texts, but I don't want us to throw away what we have. Whatever it is, we can work it out, we've been through worse." Lydia explains. She looks so innocent and hopeful that it baffles Malia. How could she not know what this was about? Malia curses under her breath, then stares back at Lydia's unyielding gaze, feeling like somehow all of this was her fault. And maybe it was. Maybe she was overreacting. But, Lydia wasn't stupid.

"You know why this happened." She said nothing more. Lydia's jaw clenched.

"Do you still love him?" Lydia asks. Is that even a real question? When Stiles moved on, she was pretty sure her heart was being torn out of her chest. She only _just_ stopped crying over it. Her face probably said as much because Lydia nodded in a sudden understanding.

"I didn't wanna ignore you. At first, it was easier to be around you, to see you with him, to pretend like I was happy. But I wasn't. I was miserable and it was eating away at me more and more every day that I had to be with you guys. And, logically, I know that you don't want to hurt me, ever. I know that you're my friend and I love you, but Lydia, I was starting to _hate_ you. I don't wanna hate you, so I stopped answering your calls. I ignored you and I'm sorry, but you can't sit here and act like this was all my fault." Malia feels tears welled up in her ears, threatening to fall. "You never showed up to my house, you didn't push for me or anything like that and I started to feel fucking abandoned like I didn't mean as much to you as you did to me. And I know that's selfish and stupid and wrong, but that's how I felt."

"I was giving you your space! I figured the whole situation was still weird to you, so I wouldn't force you to be around us, but don't you dare say that I abandoned you. I had Liam and Hayden checking in on you almost every week. I personally sent Scott to your house to check in on you when I noticed you were ignoring us."

Malia held in a gasp. She remembered the first time Scott had come over, thinking that it was his incentive. Of course, it wasn't. Maybe none of it was. Maybe this was all some fucked up thing that everyone was in on, taking pity on the cry-baby.

"Hey, hey, hey. I only sent him by that one time. He's the one who made it his mission to never leave your side for even a second," Lydia rested her hand on Malia's shoulder, obviously worried about her shaken response to that piece of information. Malia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in and Lydia visibly relaxed.

"I'm sorry, Malia. I shouldn't have done what I did without talking to you about it first. It's not the first time I've broken girl code, but I'm hoping it'll be the last. I guess I thought that...Stiles and I have this long history and I shouldn't have had to explain that to you, but that was unfair."

Malia bites back her anger, letting the growl bubbling out of her throat sizzle out inside of her. It was more than fucking unfair. She and Stiles had a history, too, but that _obviously_ paled in comparison. Lydia had no idea the things she and Stiles went through or how she felt about him. _Feels about him._

"He was my first _everything_. I trusted him and I gave him every fucking part of me. I barred my most private thoughts to him, I told him everything that I liked, hated, and wished for. And, yeah, I fell in love with him probably way too soon. I never wanted things to end and then they did. As quickly as he came into my life, he was out of it. Do you know what that feels like? Haven't you ever had that?" Malia asks.

"Once," Lydia responds slower than usual, looking away for the first time in the conversation. "With an asshole who didn't deserve it. I gave him everything, loved him unconditionally, and then he left me." Malia noticed the tears falling down her friend's face, as pretty as a painting, staining her blushed cheeks with streaks of light mascara. She moved closer, sitting directly beside Lydia now, close enough to feel her body heat. "My mom always told me: If it's that easy for him to leave you, he never planned on staying anyway. He didn't deserve me, obviously, but young love and all that. Plus, he was gorgeous." Lydia smiles in reminiscence.

"So, you get it."

"I get it."

Lydia's arm wrapped around Malia's shoulders and she pulled her into her completely, holding her close. Malia relaxed into Lydia, settling into her side and leaning her head on her shoulder.

"I love you, Lyds, but lemme tell you - it _sucks_ being the runner up."

"You are not a runner up. You are beautiful, courageous, powerful, and intelligent. _Don't_ shake your head. I cannot imagine anyone else missing eight years of school and still getting to graduate without repeating any grades," she rubs Malia's arm up and down.

Malia looked up briefly to flash a dazzling smile at Lydia. "I did kick some ass."

Lydia smiles back just as brightly and it takes a lot of exhaustion from her face. "I know how I went about things wasn't exactly thoughtful, but I _will_ make it up to you. I promise. Now give me a proper hug already," she stood up with Malia following after her and wrapped her arms around Malia's waist. Malia almost forgot how short Lydia was without heels. Malia wrapped her arms around Lydia's neck, essentially cradling her head against her chest. Yeah, this felt right. This was warm and loving and everything she missed about Lydia.

"And, sweetheart," Lydia's voice muffled into Malia's shirt. She looked up so the coyote could hear her clearly. "don't ever call yourself a runner-up again. We are not in a competition and the prize for damn sure isn't a guy that we're both too good for. You're a prize all on your own, no contest needed." Lydia smiles warmly. Malia smiles back.

"I missed you so fucking much."

"Oh, really? I figured Scott was keeping you enough company," Lydia says with that goddamn _'I know everything'_ look. Malia pushes out of the hug and turns around.

"Come on, you still have a lot of pop culture to fill me in on." Malia begins a march out of the lacrosse field to the parking lot. Lydia's giggle was almost too low to catch, but she followed Malia without a hint of bringing up Scott again, which she was grateful for.

* * *

"Try not to mess up my artwork, sweetheart," Lydia gestured to the freshly polished nail beds on Malia's feet, then turned out of the living room to get the popcorn from the kitchen. Malia wiggled her toes between the toe separators and huffed. She hated feeling restrained, but after she told Lydia about her date tomorrow night, the girl insisted (demanded) that she let her paint her nails. She even added little flower designs that damn near looked professional on each big toe. The screen of Lydia's giant television was stuck on the home screen of some romantic comedy movie that Lydia promised would change her life.

Feeling a certain unease, Malia dug her phone from her jacket pocket and sent a quick text.

 **To Scott: Getting things right with Lydia. Don't wait up.**

A few seconds later, Malia was bombarded with hoards of smiley face and celebration emojis, followed by the words ' **proud of you** '. She blushed despite herself and that's the precise moment Lydia decided to walk in.

"Someone's a little flushed. Is that Andrew?" She questioned. Malia nodded because what else was she supposed to do? Tell her that she's blushing over a stupid text from Scott? She'd never hear the end of it.

"Did you remember to put cheddar -"

"- In the popcorn. Yes, I remembered, and that is why we have separate bowls." Lydia passed her a huge, blue bowl filled with cheddar cheese popcorn. Malia hummed in delight, pleased by the snack and the easy change of subject.

"Plain popcorn is a sin," Malia says under her breath.

"Over-buttered, acrid as hell, diabetes popcorn is a sin," Lydia adds smugly.

"I don't care if this popcorn promised me nothing but death, I would still never eat plain popcorn."

"You eat frozen peas as a snack."

"Those are peas. This is _popcorn_. Just because I like my ice cream drizzled in chocolate doesn't mean I want the same toppings for my corn."

Lydia rolls her eyes, turning back to the tv and pressing play. "You're gonna love this movie, trust me, I have excellent taste."

"And you never let me forget it." Malia mumbles. Lydia 'boops' her nose playfully and turns back to the screen, shushing her on instinct. Malia stayed silent for the most part of the movie, except for the parts where she absolutely had to make a comment.

 **From Scott: We should have dinner tomorrow night. All of us.**

She wasn't sure if 'all of us' included Stiles or the Mini Pack. Either way, she wouldn't be able to make it.

 **To Scott: Can't. I have a date tomorrow.**

She felt relieved typing it out, finally moving on from Stiles and eliminating the thought of Scott before it could even form completely. Scott didn't text back for a few minutes after that and Malia was getting antsy. Lydia glanced knowingly at Malia, then excused herself to get ready for bed.

 **From Scott: That's great! With who?**

 **To Scott: Science experiment guy. He's not that bad.**

Her phone buzzing from a phone call was exactly what she expected after that. She answered with a sigh.

"Scott, it's not a big deal." She said.

"Are you sure you're even ready to start dating again?" Scott asks. It's not an unreasonable thing to ask, she was only just crying into his shoulder about her last boyfriend a couple weeks ago. "And, I'm super happy for you, honestly, but this dude sounds like an asshole."

"He kinda is. But that's okay, apparently, I have a type." She shrugs, accepting her fate of being doomed to a life of asshole guys. She's kind of an asshole, too, so it should work out. Scott sighed, sounding like he was running a hand through his hair.

" _God_ , Malia. Okay. We can do something this weekend, then."

"That's fine. Uh, I'll see you later?"

"Yep. Bye." The line clicked sooner than expected and Malia was left alone with her thoughts and the background noise of Lydia taking a shower.

She ends up falling asleep on Lydia's couch before the girl could come back out. She kind of wished she had someone to wrap their arms around her as she drifted off, but she supposed she had enough of that with Scott. It was time to sleep on her own for a bit.


End file.
